


It Wasn't Your Fault

by tal_yadin



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, One-Shot, Sad, The Massacre of Savoy, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:56:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tal_yadin/pseuds/tal_yadin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos and Porthos searching for Aramis after the massacre in savoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Wasn't Your Fault

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I own none of the charecters.
> 
> This fic was inspired by the amazing art of the magnificent Kaciart on Tumblr: http://kaciart.tumblr.com/image/76393900885
> 
> (You might want to check out the song she put there, I found it incredibley fitting fot writing this.)
> 
> All comments and kudos are appriciated :)

"ARAMIS!!!" His shout echoed through the forest.

Silence.

Porthos pulled on his reins, halting the frantic trotting of his horse. He could hear Athos riding close behind, but couldn't take his eyes off the scene laid out in front of him.

The camp was silent. He could've thought his friends - his brothers – were simply asleep had he not seen their blood, pouring from open throats, sliced open in their slumber. Brave soldiers laying on their coats and blankets, slain where they slept. He felt boiling rage rising in his stomach at the sight his brave comrades slaughtered like farm animals.   

But stronger than the rage was panic, looming in his chest like a metal strap, gradually constricting around his ribcage, squeezing the air out of his lungs. _Aramis._   

"Porthos." Athos' quiet voice snapped him out of his fear meddled stupor. He nodded and slipped out of his saddle to join the other man in the search they both knew to be hopeless.

They searched the entire camp, identifying the dead as they went. Every one of these man had a name, every single one was worth of an honorable death. It made Porthos sick to his stomach, but he couldn't avert his eyes. These man deserved to be remembered, death in battle or not.

He reached the edge of the camp. The one body he was hoping not to see wasn't anywhere to be found. He turned to look at Athos as the other man approached him. Athos shook his head and Porthos felt a spark of hope igniting in his chest.

A rattling sound made them both turn their heads. It came from the left and Porthos' hand automatically went to the hilt of his sword. They silently ventured outside of the camp's borders, alert to any noise or shadow. A trail of cluttered snow indicated that someone or something was dragged out of the camp.

They rounded a large tree and Porthos' heart leaped to his throat.

A bloodied bandage around his head, hair tussled and shivering against the cold night's air sat Aramis. Athos' shoulder brushed his as the other man rushed past him to reach their friend. Porthos was not far behind.

Aramis' head snapped upwards as Athos' hand touched his shoulder and Porthos' followed almost immediately on his other shoulder. Porthos felt a surge of relief pass through him, Aramis was alive. When he realized he was crying, it was too late to stop the tears. They streamed down his face and he covered his eyes with his free hand, the other still clutching at Aramis' shoulder.

 ***************************

Aramis' eyes widened as he recognized his friends through his hazy vision. Athos, ever calm yet caring by his side and brave, loyal Porthos crying tears on his behalf.  The events of the night flowed into his mind again - The masked murderers flowing into the camp from all directions, a sharp, sudden pain in his head and Marsac dragging him away from the raging blood bath.   

Disgust washed over him. He didn't deserve their tears, their worries. They should cry for the men who lay dead on the ground not twenty feet away.  They should worry for the families of the deceased, not for a useless soldier.

He could hear Athos saying his name, telling him to answer, but couldn't bring himself to speak. What will they think, his dear friends, when they learn the truth, when they learn what a pathetic fool they've considered a friend?

"Aramis!" Athos voice was firm and commanding, almost angry and even Porthos removed his hand to watch their friend through tear stained cheeks.

Aramis expected resentment as he met his friend's eyes. Athos must have realized what truly happened. He expected contempt, but saw none. Instead, Athos shifted his grip so that his hand rested on the back of his friend's neck, meeting Aramis' guilt addled eyes steadily.

"It wasn't your fault." His tone was softer now, sincere and Aramis' walls crumbled to the ground. He couldn't stop the sobs that were escaping his mouth. So many dead friends and he couldn't save even one.

He felt Porthos' arms pull him closer and he rested his head on the other man's chest, letting all the self loathing, anger, guilt and fear of the recent massacre to wash out of him with the flowing tears.

Aramis cried for a long time that night, and none of them would mention it in the years to come. 

**Author's Note:**

> So as you might have noticed, the fic is written from Aramis' and Porthos' points of view. Honestly Athos is one of my favorite charecters in the show and I would have loved to write something from his point of view, but unfortunately, for most of the time, I have absolutely no idea what's going through the charecter's head. So maybe next time :)


End file.
